


Heavy Lifting

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Borderlands, borderlands: the pre-sequel
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, always use a spotter guys, fantasies, unsafe gym practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilhelm's workouts are inspiring to Timothy. In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Lifting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jpo2107](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/gifts).



> This is for [Jillus](http://jillus.tumblr.com) who has been having an undeservedly rough time lately and deserves nice things, and nice things obviously equal porn. Obviously.

“Hey, Wilhelm, are you in he- oh.” Tim pokes his head through the door of the gym on J-Level and stutters to a halt.

Not many people know J-Level exists, at least not officially. There are rumors about the executive suite, of course, and that’s there, but Jack also needs a place to put his body double and other sensitive projects, and so Tim spends most of his time here on this mostly empty level of Helios with mostly locked doors.

Wilhelm is there too, though. So that’s not so bad.

Right now Wilhelm is on his back at the bench press, casually lifting - Tim eyes the weights on the end of the bar, does some quick calculations, and yup, that’s more than Tim weighs right there. In Wilhelm’s hands. Being lifted up and down like it’s nothing. The muscles in Wilhelm’s arms bunch and release with each repetition, and as Tim watches a single drop of sweat - the only real sign of exertion Tim can see - rolls its way down the curve of Wilhelm’s bicep.

Suddenly it’s very hot in this climate-controlled room. Maybe Tim should drop a word to Jack about the air-recyclers on this floor.

Wilhelm catches Tim’s eye, and it looks like the ghost of a smile crosses his face. He does one last rep, then racks the bar above him and sits up. With his shirt off it's really very apparent how  _ broad _ Wilhelm’s shoulders are, and Tim is just going to keep his eyes fixed firmly on Wilhelm’s face, that is what he is going to do.

“What’s up, Tim?” Tim will probably never get tired of hearing his own name in Wilhelm’s rumbly bass. He tries not to think about any part of that fact too much.

“It’s, uh, Jack. He wants us. In his office.”  _ Smooth, Lawrence, real smooth. _

“‘Course he does.” Wilhelm gets up and moves toward him, and it’s not until Tim is eye-level with those amazing pectorals that he realizes that he is, in fact, blocking the exit.

“Gonna move?” Wilhelm does look amused now. Tim’s not a short man, but it feels like Wilhelm towers over him, and Tim is absolutely not looking at those shoulders and imagining them pressing him down into the mattress. Or the floor. Or the weight-lifting bench, if that’s what’s handy.

“Fzkgl.” Tim’s pretty sure that whatever he says doesn’t qualify as language, and he curses - again - the fact that proximity to Wilhelm (and Wilhelm’s chest) seems to shut down the higher functions of his brain.

His brain is certainly not online for the meeting with Jack. Tim hopes Wilhelm remembers what it is they’re supposed to do, because all Tim’s doing is staring just to the right of Jack’s ear so it looks like he’s paying attention, and trying not to think about the way the bar had been engulfed in Wilhelm’s hands. He shifts a little in his seat. Jack likes close-fitting pants, which means Tim gets to wear them too, but the ones he’s wearing are suddenly  _ uncomfortably  _ tight.

Jack glances at him mid-monologue, and Tim freezes. He’ll never hear the end of it if he pops a boner in front of Jack, and he’ll  _ definitely _ die of embarrassment if he does it in front of Wilhelm.

He thinks about it later that night, though, as he skates a hand down his stomach and dips his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, tracing the hardening line of his cock. It feels like he’s been half-hard all day, and now, safe in his little apartment with lights turned off, Tim takes himself firmly in hand and lets his mind wander back to that moment in the gym.

He can picture Wilhelm vividly, sitting astride the bench and mopping his face with a towel. Tim wonders what Wilhelm would have done if, instead of standing dumbly in the doorway, Tim had gone over and draped himself over those massive thighs the way he had wanted to.

Tim can imagine it perfectly, settling himself across Wilhelm’s lap, one leg on either side of Wilhelm’s body. Wilhelm’s big; Tim’s feet might barely touch the floor and Tim shivers to think of himself balancing on Wilhelm’s thighs, Wilhelm’s big hands settling on Tim’s back and ass to hold him steady. Wilhelm might even lean in and trace his lips over Tim’s neck, beard brushing the sensitive skin there, before he presses his lips to Tim’s.

Wilhelm’s lips are probably warm and dry, and Tim would have no problem opening his mouth to Wilhelm’s tongue. Tim’s cock is already flushed and hard as he rocks up into his fist, imagining that he’s grinding down into Wilhelm’s hips instead. Tim reaches down to cradle his balls as he strokes his thumb over the tip of his cock, and bites his lip on a moan.

Tim really hopes the walls in Helios are soundproof. It would be embarrassing enough to be heard like this, let alone to be caught moaning  _ Wilhelm’s _ name.

He can imagine Wilhelm moaning  _ his  _ name, though, if he wants - can imagine lifting his mouth from Wilhelm’s and hearing “ _ Tim” _ in a breathy rumble. It curls something warm inside him to pretend - even for a moment - that Wilhelm might want this as much as Tim does.

Tim can imagine those big hands unbuttoning his pants, knuckles brushing against Tim’s stomach, and in real life there would probably be some messing with clothes and shoes, but this is Tim’s fantasy and he can skip right past that, to the part where Wilhelm’s hand is on his dick. Tim twists his wrist and imagines it’s Wilhelm, and the noise he makes is desperate even to his own ears.

His breath is coming shorter and faster now, and he’s picturing Wilhelm’s large, thick fingers sliding between his cheeks. Tim tosses his head back on his pillow as he imagines those fingers that Tim has seen crush a man’s skull pressing into him. His breath catches to think that Wilhelm could probably hold him up effortlessly, hold Tim pinned against Wilhelm’s chest while he works him open with his fingers.

Tim doesn’t know where they’d find lube in the gym, but this is _his_ _fantasy_ , dammit, and reasonability can fuck right off.

Speaking of which - Tim rolls a bit to the side and fishes in the nightstand drawer for the little tube he keeps in there. It’s cold when he squirts it onto his fingers, but it warms quickly and Tim shifts so he’s lying partly on his side, one leg canted up up so he can slide his fingers back to where he wants Wilhelm’s to be.

He doesn’t want to come too fast; this is the best jerk-off session he’s had in a while, and it’s probably the closest he’s going to come to  _ actually _ getting Wilhelm’s hands on him, so he wants to make it last. He buries his face in his arm as he slips a finger inside himself, and imagines that it’s Wilhelm’s fingers he’s fucking himself on, that it’s not the mattress but Wilhelm’s stomach he’s rubbing his dick against.

Fingers wouldn’t be  _ enough _ , though, not for long. Wilhelm’s cock is probably just as big as the rest of him, and Tim is slightly ashamed of how badly he wants it inside of him. His mouth falls open, eyes screwed shut as he imagines Wilhelm fitting his hands under Tim’s ass and  _ lifting  _ as Tim braces his hands on Wilhelm’s shoulders. Wilhelm would position Tim just over the head of Wilhelm’s cock and then slowly,  _ slowly _ let him slip down onto it, letting gravity do the work of impaling Tim on Wilhelm’s dick.

Tim rocks back onto his fingers, picturing it: himself, fitted over Wilhelm’s lap as Wilhelm takes him by the hips and works him up and down Wilhelm’s cock. Tim would try to help - in fact, he might even be so bold as to push Wilhelm flat on his back on the bench and  _ ride _ him, hands skimming over that broad chest and toned stomach. Wilhelm would likely chuckle at that, but in Tim’s scenario he doesn’t object, hands resting on Tim’s hips to steady him but letting Tim take the lead. Tim can’t hold back a little whimper as he thinks about Wilhelm’s hips rocking up to meet him, those powerful legs braced on the floor giving power to his thrusts. He might wrap a hand around Tim’s dick, large fingers curling entirely around the length of it, and it’s that thought - Wilhelm’s cock inside him, Wilhelm’s hand on him, and Wilhelm’s voice breathing out his name -  that sends Tim over the edge, coming in a hard rush against the mattress.

He lies there for a moment, breathing deeply and feeling wrung out, before he makes a face at the wet spot and rolls away from it. Tomorrow he’ll clean the sheets, but for now he just wants to lie here and float in the post-orgasmic haze. Wilhelm probably isn’t a cuddler, but in Tim’s head he can be, and as Tim draws the blankets up around himself he pretends that their weight is Wilhelm’s arms around him.

Wilhelm hadn’t looked too put out by Tim today. Tim’s lips curve into a smile to himself as he drifts off to sleep; maybe next time he catches Wilhelm at the gym, Tim will ask if he needs a spotter.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
